Desperate Measures
by TirOrah
Summary: "Asking for help wasn't in her nature, but she just wasn't proficient at matters concerning her feelings. That was her classmate's area of expertise." AU.


Yes, it's time for another sizeable addition (percentage-wise) to the Minna x Trude ship!

All credits for inspiration go to one of my best friends, Elio, who came up with the line that's at the heart of this fic. I'm sure you'll know it when you see it.

I initially wanted to refer to Waltrud by her first name, but because that's so similar to "Gertrud", I decided to change it to Krupinski. Let me know if this works out for you.

Disclaimer: Strike Witches is the legal property of Shimada Humikane. I write fanfiction to pay homage to the source material and promote awareness of its existence. And for fun. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

What was it people said? Desperate times call for desperate measures?

Yes, as Gertrud worked her way through throngs of other university students, she thought that was appropriate given the situation. Asking for help wasn't in her nature, but she just wasn't proficient at matters concerning her feelings. That was her classmate's area of expertise.

One fellow student almost bumped into her; she glared but continued on, already forgotten. They all chatted merrily now that midterms were over, drinking to their heart's content or dancing to the music. Ordinarily she would have scoffed at their debauchery, but tonight was different. There was only one thing on her mind, and only one person who could help.

And there said person was, at the bar just as she suspected. Tall, slender and annoyingly at ease, the woman leaned against the counter, hefting a glass of whisky and winking at a woman walking past.

Sucking in a breath, Gertrud walked over. "Krupinski," she said matter-of-factly, her voice somewhat overpowered by some pop song playing from the speakers across the room.

Waltrud Krupinski lifted her glass in greeting.

"Trudi! Finally ready to take a swig?" She grinned unashamedly and wiggled her drink. There was a faint smell of alcohol on her breath.

Gertrud just rolled her eyes at her classmate. "Stop calling me that!" she snapped, glaring at the liquor with aversion. "And no, I'm not here to drink. Unlike you, I have restraint and a sense of decorum."

Krupinski shrugged. "You say that now, but I'll get you drunk someday. Ah well." She took a sip of the whisky. "So what's up? Wait." She frowned. "Are you here to chew me out again? I swear, I flirt with someone _once_ in your presence and you get all bent outta shape…"

"Well, if you'd have kept yourself from draping all over her, I wouldn't need to reprimand you in the first place." Gertrud sighed. "But…that's not what I'm here for."

Krupinski's eyebrows rose and she leaned forward, curiosity alight in her dark eyes.

"Really now?" She chuckled and patted the stretch of varnished wooden top next to her. "Come on then, tell me all about it."

With a small degree of reluctance, Gertrud complied and stood close enough to speak in hushed tones, but she didn't recline against the bar, electing to stay upright instead. Mustering her courage—and throwing aside her pride—she looked Krupinski in the eye.

"I need a favor."

The blonde snorted in amusement. "That's a first. But, consider me interested."

"I need…" Gertrud grimaced. "I need advice. About…about talking. To someone."

"Talking? That's it?" Krupinski sounded disappointed. "You can do that on your own. I know I call you a stiff sometimes, but—"

"Not just talking!" Gertrud grumbled, crossing her arms defensively. "I mean talking like you do. Flirting."

Krupinski's jaw dropped and she stared. "S-seriously? You, flirting?"

"I just…need something to break the ice, that's all. I'm not looking for a crash course on philandering."

Krupinski hummed thoughtfully, setting down her drink. "Now I get it. A conversation opener… Yeah, it figures you'd need help with that." She rubbed her chin. "Hold on, just let me think. My lines are usually meant for girls, not guys."

"It's not a man," Gertrud mumbled, too quiet for her classmate to hear.

"Sorry, what was that?"

She looked down, cheeks reddened by embarrassment. "It's not a man."

Krupinski froze. Had the hall not been filled with music and the sounds of more than a hundred other people, Gertrud was sure they could have heard a pin drop. She looked around uneasily, wondering if it was too late to pull out.

Suddenly two arms wrapped around her shoulders and Krupinski was whooping in her ear. Loudly.

"Yes, yes, yes!" the blonde yelled, shaking her. "That's more like it, Trudi! I knew you'd come around someday!" Gertrud pushed her off.

"Don't call me that and just tell me what to do!"

Grinning like the cat that got the cream, Krupinski nodded. "Sure, sure! Okay, first off: show me who it is."

Gertrud paled. "You can't be serious."

"It'll help me get in the mood."

She groaned. Desperate measures, she reminded herself.

She pointed into the crowd a little ways away, back in the direction she'd come from. There, visible between the masses, a few small groups were standing at some high tables. They were talking to one another and sipping cocktails.

"Ooh, I see her!" Gertrud looked over and noticed Krupinski was peering at them with all due focus, one hand above her eyes to block out the lights, and the other already holding the whisky again. "The lively blonde, eh? Well, can't say I'm surprised; you do like 'm a little younger. Gotta love those dark highlights in her hair, too. Great choice! Wish I'd picked her up myself, now."

Gertrud's eyed bugged out in surprise. "What?" she choked out. "You have the wrong person! Where are you even looking? And what was that abou—"

"Oh, my bad. Guess the other one is more your speed. Heh, it figures you'd fall for the petite, brainy type. Those glasses sure look good on her." Krupinski nodded in appreciation.

"P-p-petite?" Gertrud's eyes twitched wildly. Her hand came up to squeeze Krupinski's shoulder—hard—and she shot the blonde as dark a glare she could muster. "Just what are you insinuating?"

Krupinski blinked at her. "No? I always figured, since you're so fond of—" Gertrud squeezed harder, making her wince. "Guess not! Okay, I get it! You can let go now." She rolled her shoulder once it was released. "Man, you have a death grip."

"Look. Closely." Gertrud jabbed her finger in the direction of someone standing at a table near the blonde twins, alone but greeting a passersby. "The redhead."

"Wha—the one with the wine?"

"Yes."

Krupinski let out a low whistle.

"Wow, I didn't think she'd be your type. Although…" She paused, eyeing the woman up and down. Gertrud refrained from hitting her. "Yeah, I can see it. She's the mature kind, just like you."

She sighed and drew back into her defensive stance. It was true; the woman's aura of maturity drew the eye. Her rosy complexion and the way her dark green dress caressed and hugged her curves were noticeable, to say the least.

But what had first captured her attention was the woman's warm, melodious laugh. Gertrud had never been interested in anyone before, but that one sound had been enough to bring about a change in her. Now she had a strong urge to speak up, to be noticed. She wanted to know this person, if only to make sense of these confusing feelings.

Trying not to dwell on that, lest she would start blushing again, she chanced a look at Krupinski.

"So, can you help me?"

Krupinski nodded and snapped her fingers. "Yeah, I got something that's just right for both of you! Come closer." Hesitantly, Gertrud leaned forward and let the blonde whisper in her ear. "…So you say that…and then do that. Got it?"

Drawing back, Gertrud frowned. "That sounds ridiculous!" It was utterly inconceivable. Surely, something like that would never work on any self-respecting person.

Krupinski just patted her on the back. "Don't worry, I know how this works. See, women like her"—she pointed at the redhead—"are used to getting all prim and proper proposals. That's what you'd do too, right?"

Gertrud nodded; that was her first instinct. She'd only been hampered by her lack of experience.

"Right." Krupinski sipped her drink. "So to really make an impression, you need to stand out—surprise her with something different!"

"I…guess." Gertrud stared unseeing at a crowd of partygoers in front of them, still doubtful. "But couldn't it backfire?"

"It could," Krupinski said, unusually serious. "But that's the case no matter what you do." She grabbed Gertrud by the shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "Listen to me, Gertrud. There's never a certainty in this game. If you want to do this, you gotta have guts; go in guns blazing and hope for the best! It's the only way."

Gertrud let out a shuddering breath. She didn't know what to think. It was a valid point, but something about it seemed too ludicrous to work. Still, if this would get her moving, she would just have to put everything she had into it.

"So…I should just do it?" she asked for the final time.

"Exactly. Go!" Krupinski lightly pushed her out onto the floor.

Looking back over her shoulder, Gertrud saw her give a thumbs-up. Nodding back gravely, she strode through the crowds once more, ignoring her nerves and willing her legs to keep moving.

* * *

"Waltrud?" A light, gentle voice called.

"Yeah?" Krupinski replied distractedly, her eyes glued on Gertrud's receding form. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw silver hair glint under the lights and knew it to be her roommate.

"What are you doing?" Edytha Roßmann asked her.

"Edie! You won't believe what's happening. Look!" She pointed at Gertrud, excitement speeding up her speech. "Trudi's gonna flirt! She has a crush on that girl!"

"How unexpected," Edytha said, sounding fittingly curious for such a rare event. She followed Krupinski's gaze. "Which one? …The blonde?"

"No no, the redhead!"

"Oh my. She is certainly…" Edytha trailed off thoughtfully.

"I know! Poor Trudi was so out of her depth, she actually came to me for advice. Me!" Krupinski was giddy now. Gertrud was so close! Only a little more…

"I see." Edytha's voice became neutral. "And what exactly did you tell her?"

Krupinski explained it succinctly, never taking her eyes off the table of fate. But she was rudely interrupted when Edytha tugged at her sleeve hard, bringing her lower and jostling her whisky.

"Hey! What's the big idea?" She tried struggling free, but Edytha's grip was like iron. Wait, why did she look annoyed?

"I don't believe you." Edytha sounded disappointed. "I know you two have your differences, but sabotaging her like that is unwarranted in any situation."

"Sabotage?" she sputtered indignantly. "What are you talking about? It works for me all the time! I just changed the words around a bit to suit Trudi."

Edytha frowned. "You're clueless. It might work for you, but how do you think Gertrud's going to handle it?"

"Eh?"

Her friend just sighed. "Think! Imagine her spouting that ludicrous line. She doesn't have the same motive you do, remember?"

Krupinski imagined Gertrud as a ladies' woman and nearly laughed. Then she was struck by a sudden sense of foreboding, and all her enthusiasm drained away faster than she could down a shot.

"Crap."

* * *

 _Just do it. Just do it. Do it!_

Gertrud arrived at the redhead's table all too soon. Her shaky legs told her she wasn't ready. To add to the difficulty, the woman seemed even more mesmerizing up close. She felt warmth build up in her face, as well as a tingling feeling all over. Breathing heavily, she steeled herself and stepped forward.

The woman noticed her—a small thrill of victory tickled her spine—and smiled genially.

"Hello! I don't believe we've met." She extended a slender, elegant hand. "My name is Minna."

Gertrud was paralyzed. Faced with an open invitation for physical contact, she found her limbs turn to stone and her ears grow hot. Feeling awkward and increasingly embarrassed at this sudden reaction, she stared at the offered hand for a long moment, involuntarily studying each dip and curve of her velvety palm and long fingers. She cursed herself inwardly at her lack of control.

"Are you all right?" Minna's voice washed over her again and she looked up, straight into two deep, red pools. That didn't help her nerves at all.

"I'm f-fine!" Her voice sounded a little hoarse. She coughed self-consciously and cleared her throat, reminding herself to breathe.

 _Damn it, focus! What did Waltrud say? Something about…ah._

Clenching her sweaty hands, she squared her shoulders and projected a boldness she didn't feel.

"H-hey…" She swallowed hard at the foreign words she was about to say, and summoned the most daring grin she could come up with. "You're l-like a good gun, I'd like to p-pull your trigger." To finish it off, she made finger guns at Minna and winked.

Neither of them moved at first. Minna's eyes were wide and her mouth moved, but there was no sound to be heard. Finally, after a long, very long moment, she raised one hand to her chest and uttered a very confused:

"I beg your pardon?"

Gertrud was still frozen, still stuck in the embarrassing pose from before. From the outset, Krupinski's advice had seemed like a preposterous suggestion, but hearing the line out loud…yes, she was even more convinced that it was a horrible mistake.

Finally dropping her hands, she looked away in an attempt to disguise the heat of shame she suddenly felt all over.

"Yes…please excuse me," she mumbled and turned away to look at her advisor, fury quickly washing away every other emotion.

For her part, Krupinski downed the rest of her whisky in one go and wriggled away from Edytha, making a run for it.

* * *

Five minutes, one chase and several death threats later, Gertrud sagged against the wall of a nearby corridor.

"Damn philanderer…never should've listened to her nonsense…" she muttered darkly, glaring down at her shoes. Edytha insisted Krupinski didn't mean for it to go wrong, but that wouldn't fix anything now. Gertrud groaned at the memory. "I'll be lucky if she doesn't report me for untoward behavior. What was I thinking?"

She ran her hands over her face as the humiliation and disappointment came back with a vengeance, welling in her abdomen to the point of nausea. She'd been so eager, so very desperate, but the only desire she had left now was to retreat to her room and stay hidden for the next two years of her life. Possibly longer. She wondered if she could convince Johanna to act as liaison.

"Ah! There you are."

Gertrud jerked in surprise and looked up. Walking up to her was Minna, hands clasped in front, reminding her once more of the redhead's physical attributes.

 _Minna,_ Her mind helpfully supplied. _It's Minna. She's here. Minna's here. Why?_

The horrible thought occurred that Minna might be here to reprimand her. She shrank a little at the notion, not looking forward to seeing Minna's usually kind face morphed by anger. But it would be warranted. She wanted to apologize, to say something that might make this situation a little more bearable, but she couldn't think of anything. Guilt overwhelming her, her gaze returned to her shoes.

"Please, look at me," was Minna's soft request. Gertrud timidly did so. But to her surprise, Minna looked calm. And…was that a smile? "It's all right, truly."

She remained silent, her disbelief undoubtedly showing on her face. Minna brushed her fingers through her red locks, her gaze unsure.

"I will admit, I was…astonished, at first," Minna said, speaking every word with deliberate care. "And even more so when you left so suddenly. But afterwards, I realized something."

The redhead wrung her hands together. Gertrud straightened, seeing an awkwardness that matched hers.

"I realized that couldn't possibly be you. You seemed much more genuine when you were so shy earlier." Minna tilted her head. "Is that correct?"

Gertrud thought about it. Yes, she had been shy and was now feeling that way again, but she was usually much more confident; it was just Minna who had this effect on her. Still, she guessed that meant it came from the heart. That felt good. It felt right.

"I…yes." Her nausea gone, she tried to relax and look at Minna normally. "Ordinarily I wouldn't—it wasn't my idea to say…that particular thing." She frowned at herself; it was still her idea to ask Krupinski for help in the first place. "I'm sorry."

Minna's face lit up. "I thought as much! In that case, I would dearly love to speak with the real you."

"W-what?" Gertrud could barely believe it, but Minna's enthusiasm reassured her. Courage long forgotten came rushing back. "Really?"

Minna nodded. "If that would be agreeable."

"Yes! I mean…that would be nice." Minna giggled, and the soothing sound was all she needed to erase the last of her shame. That warm, tingling feeling in her stomach returned, and she found herself buoyed once more. "I'm Gertrud."

"Well then," Minna looked into her eyes, sounding as eager as Gertrud felt. "There's a balcony not far from here. How about we continue our conversation there, Gertrud?"

Gertrud nodded and followed her lead. Hearing her name come from Minna's mouth felt great. It didn't matter if it made her lose control and grin like a fool; what she was feeling right now was far more important. And as Minna's warm, soft hand grazed her own, Gertrud decided that despite all the embarrassment, this was worth everything.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I usually don't make little sister jokes about Trude, as I find them to undercut other aspects of her relationship with Chris. Just couldn't resist it here, though.

So yes, in case it wasn't blatantly obvious, the subject of this fic was "think of a Trude pick-up line involving guns" because she seems to like them so much. Elio provided the line, and I decided to try and build a little story around that.

I hope I did Waltrud and Edytha some justice. At this moment in time, I don't feel incentivized to watch more of Brave Witches, so I don't have a good handle on their personalities and general habits. All I have is wiki knowledge.

The "Johanna" mentioned in this story is Johanna Wiese, just in case it wasn't clear. I put her down as Gertrud's roommate because they like each other and they wouldn't drive each other crazy.


End file.
